


Aftermath

by bees_stories



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathing, Explicit Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Make up sex, Relationship Issues, Rough Sex, frotage, games people play, hurt comfort, non verbal communication, shower, work/ life balance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bees_stories/pseuds/bees_stories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto has experienced a near miss at work. He's been trapped by the forcefield emitted by a mysterious Rift artefact and then he's had a narrow escape when the Rift opened nearly on top of them. Now he and Jack have to work through the aftermath, because even near-misses can leave damage in their wake.</p>
<p>A/N I: This is the coda to 'Under His Master's Eye'. However, it is not necessary to read that story for this one to make sense. <br/>A/N II: This story is set during the later part of series 2 and contains spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

***

It was pretty obvious from the way Ianto was white-knuckling the steering wheel and blowing through the traffic signals that he was upset. This wasn't exactly a staggeringly astute observation, because Ianto had been either frostily polite or snappish ever since he'd recovered from his encounter with the mysterious disappearing artefact in Sunset Park. He didn't like reminders of his mortality. But Torchwood being Torchwood, they seemed to crop up on a semi-regular basis leaving a feeling of profound awkwardness in their wake.

Ianto peeled around another corner at a too fast clip. Jack grabbed the dashboard for support with one hand while he keep the Chinese takeaway in his lap from spilling out of the carrier bag with the other, simultaneously praying to every deity who might have local jurisdiction that the streets stayed empty. Given it was bordering on Wednesday morning, it was a good bet his prayer would be answered, but he promised to do a good turn for the next stranger he ran across anyway as an extra incentive. "Hey, I know you're in a hurry to get home, but let's get there in one piece, okay?"

Tension radiated off Ianto like heat shimmering off pavement. He glared at Jack's concern, stifling any further attempts at conversation, but he eased up on the accelerator just in time to avoid blowing through another traffic light. As they idled at the signal, Jack shuffled through the strategies he'd used before to deal with the Ianto's rare displays of volcanic temper. He had the distinct impression that jocularity was a bad idea. Ianto was in no mood to be charmed. Picking a fight was always an option. A lot could be revealed during the course of a fistfight or a slanging match. If Ianto wanted either or both, he could have them, as long as it led to clearing the air between them. But he'd have to provoke the fight first, Jack decided. Since Ianto had the bit between his teeth, he might as well have free reins too. 

They pulled up in front of Ianto's building. Ianto killed the engine and very quietly said, "Go inside. I'll follow." 

Jack nodded, but he didn't reply. Keeping his expression completely neutral, he let himself out of the car, bag of takeaway in hand, and used his key to open first the front door and then the one to Ianto's flat. He put the food away in the fridge and then hung up his coat and took off his boots, leaving them on the little shelf underneath the hall table. Thirsty, and aware there was the possibility of shouting in the near future, he drew a glass of water from the kitchen tap, drained it, and then put the glass next to the sink in case he wanted to use it again. 

Roughly five minutes later Ianto entered. He didn't speak. He put his hands against Jack's shoulders and manhandled him into the front room. He pushed Jack hard enough against the door panel to make him exhale sharply and then stepped in so close that Jack was effectively immobilised. With a powerful grip that belayed his office worker's persona, Ianto took hold of Jack's wrists and dragged them along the wooden surface until they were raised over his head. Trapped, Jack was helpless and unable to do anything but submit as Ianto pressed so close that his rapid heartbeat was palpable despite their layers of clothing.

The first kiss wasn't a kiss as much as it was a declaration. "I'm alive. Vital. I'm right here." 

The pressure of Ianto's lips, so utterly relentless and demanding, took Jack's remaining breath away and made him feel sick at heart.

The kiss was filled with need. With hunger. There was no tenderness in it. With the press of his lips and with the tongue that forced its way into Jack's mouth, Ianto was stating his terms. He was the master. Jack was his slave. Without question or protest Jack would yield to Ianto's every instruction. Every whim. Every desire. 

"Yes, sir," Jack whispered when Ianto finally broke away. He couldn't have said more if he'd wanted to. Along with stealing his breath, the kiss had shut down his capacity to make glib remarks. It had scrambled his speech centres and addled his brain. He was completely subjugated to Ianto's will.

Ianto met Jack's gaze. His eyes were as turbulent as a raging sea. "Good." He leant in again and claimed Jack's mouth a second time. Now that terms were set, he was willing to be a little less assertive. He brushed his lips against Jack's with less aggression, but not yet with anything resembling tenderness. "Go start the shower," Ianto instructed. 

"Sir." 

Ianto released his grip and stepped away. Jack's arms fell to his sides and his fingers tingled as blood surged back into them. He could still feel Ianto's body where it had pressed against his and the weight of the door at his back. He took a measured breath and then a second, and watched Ianto watch him before lowering his eyes and turning on his heel, marching with military correctness down the short hallway to the bathroom. 

Jack flipped on the light and paused with his hand on the switch as the faint chemical odour of cleaning products assailed his nostrils. He frowned as he stepped inside and looked around the room. 

Every surface had been recently scrubbed. The mirror shone and the sink gleamed. There wasn't a trace of soap scum or a hard water spot to be seen. Not a fleck of dried toothpaste or a misplaced whisker. Jack frowned as he realised that the rest of the flat, what little he'd seen of it, was just as just as spotless. The kitchen counters had been cleared of everything but the toaster and microwave. The fridge had been empty, save for an unopened carton of milk, a new loaf of bread, and a few other basic essentials. There had been no pizza boxes or takeaway cartons. The air, until Ianto had robbed it from his lungs, had smelt of furniture polish and recent hoovering. 

Jack looked at himself in the mirror and wondered what else was going on in his boyfriend's life that he hadn't picked up on. Ianto was tidy by nature, but he was only meticulous when he was upset or anxious.

It was possible that family issues were rearing their heads again. There was a sister that Ianto rarely talked about, perhaps she had opened old wounds or ignited new anxieties. Or maybe it was work; worry over Owen's condition and how they were going to proceed now that his useful life as a field agent was effectively over. They were going to have to start recruiting again. Jack knew it and he'd been procrastinating, ignoring the growing pile of CVs and Ianto's reproving looks, even though he knew there was a limit to how long he could put off hiring.

Perhaps those were the frustrations Ianto had vented as he scrubbed the grout in his tiles and polished the mirrors and the chrome until they gleamed. Maybe this was his fault too. 

With a renewed feeling of guilt, Jack decided that a display of penance was appropriate. He started the shower tap and then went down the hallway to the linen cupboard. He got a pair of towels and a new sea sponge he'd stashed away for a special occasion. There was some scented soap he'd pocketed from the last time they'd stayed at a swank hotel. He grabbed that too, and then went to undress. By the time he met Ianto in the bathroom, the room had started to fill with steam. 

Ianto raised a disapproving eyebrow, still spoiling for a fight. Jack bowed his head in contrition, dropped the towels on the counter and slowly began to strip Ianto out of his shirt and trousers, communicating a sense of calm through his leisurely undoing of buttons and zips. Ianto was holding himself so tightly that when Jack's fingertips grazed his neck, he flinched and then took a shaking breath to release the tension. 

"Wash me." Ianto's voice was a hoarse whisper. He opened the door and stepped inside, letting out a billow of steam in his wake before he bowed his head under the spray.

Jack followed. He wet the sponge and applied soap to it, working up a foaming lather that added the scent of roses to the steam. A brief smile flickered over Ianto's lips. He remembered that long, lazy weekend too. Not all Torchwood missions led to a fraught aftermath. 

Bathing Ianto was an excuse to touch every inch of him, something Jack had been itching to do since they'd piled into the SUV to escape the gaping maw of the Rift, but Ianto's sense of pride and propriety had denied. Now they were alone and there was nothing, other than the rules of their game, keeping him from doing exactly as he wished. As the water beat down over his head, Jack lathered Ianto's shoulders and felt the accumulated tension gathered there. 

When Ianto raised his arm, the scent of stale acrid fear-sweat mingled with the floral steam. It hadn't been present earlier in the SUV. He hadn't had time to be afraid then. Ianto must have experienced a delayed reaction after they'd returned to the Hub. He had disappeared for a time, going to the archive to retrieve old notes on Rift activity that hadn't yet been uploaded to the digital storage system. It must have been then, amongst the dusty and forgotten files, that Ianto had finally started to process what had happened to him. It must have been then he'd realised how close a call he potentially must have had.

Jack felt a pang of guilt that he hadn't noticed the delayed reaction sooner. But by that point in the evening, he'd been tired and had felt wrong-footed. Ianto had already started to withdraw and become frosty from the other's expressions of concern. His own small gestures had been rebuffed. Ianto, the consummate caregiver, was often uncomfortable when his generosity was reciprocated by others, which was a damned shame, but not unusual. Why was it easier to give than to receive acts of kindness?

Jack renewed the lather and began to scrub Ianto's back, working outward from his spine and downward until he reached the swell of his hip. Barely keeping himself in check, he knelt to soap between Ianto's legs, longing kiss his way down the too tense thigh muscles and the sensitive area behind Ianto's knees, but refraining because he hadn't yet been given permission. How different a shower it would be if Ianto would allow him to the freedom to do what he really desired. There were so many kissable places on Ianto's body. Jack knew them all well. He had his favourites. Ianto had his. They were all fun and each provoked a different reaction. Slow sensual meetings of their mouths. Quick nibbling grazes over nipples and under arms. At the jut of the hipbones. The inside of the thigh and knee. They all provoked reactions: Shivers. Sighs. Gasps. All the small encouragements that shouted 'More. Please. More.' They had shared those kinds of showers. They would again. Probably soon. But not tonight. Not until Ianto's daemons had been purged.

Ianto pivoted so that Jack could work his way back up the other side. A pool of suds gathered at their feet as he was rinsed clean. 

"See, Jack? Still here. Every bit of me," Ianto said when they were face to face again. He turned away, sending more suds down the drain. "Do yourself now," he instructed before stepping out of the shower and towelling himself dry. 

Jack frowned as he washed, wondering why Ianto was still holding himself so tightly in check. He lathered and sluiced off again efficiently, and then followed Ianto down the hallway to the bedroom. 

The bedding was drawn back. The only illumination was the bedside lamp. Ianto stood in half light as he drew the curtains more securely closed. Jack stood just inside the doorway, waiting for instructions. 

"Hands and knees." 

Jack kept his expression neutral as he clambered onto the mattress. He bowed his head and closed his eyes as he consciously relaxed his body, because he knew that Ianto had no intention of being gentle. He heard the sound of the drawer in the bedside table being opened, and the contents shuffled. He heard the sound of the plastic cap from the bottle of lube being efficiently snapped open. He felt the mattress shift as Ianto positioned himself on his knees, and allowed himself to sigh as his buttocks were spread and cool gel rubbed between them, hoping, but not really expecting, Ianto might remember a demonstration of virility needn't lack tenderness. 

Ianto pushed inward. 

Jack gasped as Ianto pulled back, shifted the angle of their bodies, and then did it again. 

The second position seemed to suit his mood. He gripped Jack by the shoulders, holding him securely in place. There would be no topping from the bottom tonight. Each sharp thrust of Ianto's hips seemed to communicate the same message the kiss had. 

"I'm here."

"I'm alive." 

"I survived."

"Don't mourn me yet." 

Jack grunted in reply as their flesh slapped together in a relentless tattoo. The pain of rough penetration tore the breath from his throat and prevented anything more coherent. He wanted to offer comfort. To affirm Ianto's survival, not to mourn him prematurely. It tore at his heart that he couldn't do those things. Not yet. First Ianto had to work through his fear and his anger and maybe even a measure of residual survivor's guilt before he would accept anything close to comfort. It was a cross they both bore; by opening themselves up to love, they were setting themselves up for inevitable loss. It was a cancer that ate at their happiness no matter how hard they tried to keep it at bay.

The visceral scent of sweat obliterated the perfume of roses. Jack thought of times when their positions had been reversed. When Ianto had been his whipping boy, taking punishment to pleasure Jack because he knew that once strong emotion was exhausted then the gentler ones could hold sway. It was those quiet moments, after the purging, that made the pain worthwhile. When their bruised and battered bodies and hearts finally could be salved with tenderness.

Ianto gasped and fell forward, draping his heaving chest against Jack's back. He gripped Jack's shoulders hard enough to bruise and then stilled. 

"Better?" Jack asked softly, although it was a violation of the rules. 

Ianto nodded mutely, too exhausted to do more. 

"Permission to take over?" 

Ianto nodded against Jack's back again. 

Jack flattened his body against the mattress, carrying Ianto with him. They lay like that for several minutes, still connected by Ianto's partially erect cock, catching their breaths. Centring for what was yet to come. 

Outside a dog barked, protecting its territory, as a diesel engine rumbled down the otherwise quiet street.

"Lay down next to me," Jack said quietly. "On your back." 

Ianto pulled out. Jack gave himself another couple of seconds and then he got up.

In the bathroom, he drank water from the tap. He gave himself a cursory wash and looked in the mirror. He considered what Ianto needed most. His self esteem seemed to be in a fragile state. He needed to be cosseted, but that was the last thing he wanted. His pride wouldn't allow it. 

He lathered and rinsed a cloth and took it back into the bedroom. 

Ianto was lying on his back as he'd been instructed. His eyes were closed. There was a fine sheen of sweat covering his body. His colour was high. Jack sat down on the bed next to him. He leaned over and brushed their lips together. "My turn to call the shots?" he asked softly, just to be sure.

Ianto nodded with his eyes still closed. Jack plied the cloth, washing away the last of Ianto's aggressive mood with gentle strokes. 

"Better?" Jack asked when he was through. 

Ianto nodded again. 

Jack tossed the cloth in the general direction of the laundry basket and then he kissed Ianto's mouth again. Ianto kissed back, no longer aggressive, his lips were pliant under Jack's. "Did I hurt you?" There was genuine worry in Ianto's voice.

Jack brushed another kiss against Ianto's lips before replying. "Nothing that won't mend." 

The truth was despite his precautions, he'd find sitting at his desk uncomfortable, but that was a small price to pay. Ianto, his Ianto, was looking up at him again. His eyes were no longer turbulent. The worst of the storm had passed and they'd survived it. More kissing seemed to be in order to celebrate. He kissed Ianto's eyebrows, first the left and then the right. Ianto often expressed a great deal of what he was feeling with their lifts and quirks. An interrogative twitch was a useful means of communicating inappropriate thoughts during long, dull meetings. Now he raised the left asking Jack's intentions. 

Jack decided to stick to non-verbal communication. He drifted lower, kissing Ianto's neck, just under his ear. It was sensitive there, and though he protested when Jack left hickies, he liked it when the skin was sucked hard enough to leave them behind. Jack considered, nipping lightly, just to hear Ianto suck his breath through his teeth, and then decided against leaving a visible mark. He shifted his weight, straddled Ianto's torso and continued to leave a long, leisurely trail of kisses in his wake as he drifted lower, sucking at Ianto's nipples until he fisted the sheet under his trapped hands in frustration, because he wasn't allowed to return Jack's caresses. 

With each kiss Jack found himself growing more at ease. In the car, Ianto had said that it was he who needed reminding that it was too early to mourn. Ianto had been right in a way. He had been caught in the artefact's snare for less than two minutes, but those two minutes had seemed endless. The Rift opening on top of them while Ianto was caught behind the forcefield had been a blood chilling sight, one Jack knew would live on in his nightmares. Pinning Ianto against his mattress – the only sounds other than his gasps and sighs those of the flat settling into the quietude of the space between midnight and morning – was exactly the reminder Jack needed that they still had time. 

Time to fight. 

Time to make up. 

Time to laugh. 

Time to make love. 

He dipped his tongue into the well of Ianto's navel and revelled as Ianto moaned, open mouthed and needy in reply. It was such a greedy sound that Jack felt his cock twitch with reciprocal desire. He let go of Ianto's right wrist with the intention of giving himself a small measure of relief, but at the last second, just as his hand brushed close enough to feel his body heat, he changed his mind. What he wanted was to feel Ianto's skin. His heat. His sweat as they moved against one another. Jack gave Ianto's belly button another leisurely swipe of his tongue and then shifted his frame, denying himself contact. He moved on. 

Ianto writhed in frustration as his hipbones were kissed, first left and then right and then the tops of his thighs. He moaned again when Jack raised his legs so that the backs of his knees could be played with, caressed and tickled provocatively before being abandoned in favour of his calves, his ankles, his toes. 

Ianto had sensitive feet. 

Jack kissed each instep and then massaged it gently. He frowned at a callous on the ball of Ianto's left foot and rubbed carefully when he discovered the muscle underneath it was tight. He lapped at Ianto's toes and watched with quiet delight as Ianto bucked up off the mattress when he sucked the largest of the right toes into his mouth and tongued it as if it were a cock in miniature.

He'd made Ianto come that way once. 

He could do so again.

But not tonight. Gently, Jack returned Ianto's leg to its resting place on the mattress and kissed his way back up Ianto's frame until they were chest to chest. He looked down into Ianto's face and lowered his body. Their erections brushed at last. 

It was Jack's turn to gasp with pleasure as Ianto whispered, "Please. Please, Jack. Please." 

In the semi-darkness, Jack smiled. Denial had its place, but so did reward. Ianto had done very well restraining himself from acting, even though he'd been frustrated by his forced pacifism.

"Your wish is my command," Jack replied before he began to rock his body against Ianto's. 

Ianto surged against upward to meet Jack's caresses. Needy. Greedy. Desperate to be touched in more than a teasing way. In an utter antithesis of his early behaviour where sex had been about proving a point, he was almost willing to accept comfort. 

"Touch me, Ianto," Jack instructed. "I want to feel your hands on my skin." 

Ianto reached up and tentatively touched Jack's cheekbone before pulling him downward so they could kiss. There was nothing angry about the way his lips sought Jack's. Or the way he swiped his tongue inward. Just pure sexual hunger. "So good," he murmured as he shifted his pelvis in time to meet Jack's downward thrust. 

They rocked against one another. Rousing each other to greater and greater heights of passion. The rules of the game had been suspended. For what they were doing there was only one rule: give pleasure and accept the pleasure given in return.

Rage had its place, Jack thought as he and Ianto surged against one another. Screaming up at the cosmos was occasionally a useful way to remind the Universe that it wasn't as empty as it like to think it was. But there was nothing, in his estimation, that was more life affirming than sharing one's body with another passionate person. Feeling them tense. Hearing their breath hitch or give way in a soft exhalation. Tasting the salt of their sweat or smelling the raw animal scent of their body as their excitement grew. 

This was life at its most essential. 

Ianto reached between them. He captured Jack's erection against his own, holding them both tightly together and then let go again. 

Jack nodded, acknowledging Ianto's signal that he was on the verge of release. He dipped low, captured Ianto's erection between his thighs and joined their mouths. He exhaled and gave Ianto the one gift he'd wanted to give him since they'd tumbled into the SUV.

Life. 

An endless supply of it flowed through him from the TARDIS. He shared it with Ianto. He'd done it before. No doubt he'd do it again. It wouldn't give Ianto immortality, but it might give them a little more time, and that would have to suffice. 

Ianto gasped as he was overwhelmed. He seemed to meld against Jack's skin and that was all Jack needed to find his own release. He came against Ianto's thighs, pulse after pulse of ejaculate, denial intensifying his orgasm until he felt as if he was floating above the mattress instead of resting upon it. 

The bedroom was filled with light. 

It took him several moments to work it out, but eventually Jack realised that the light was coming from them. He was glowing. And so was Ianto. Pale, golden light radiated from the pair of them, casting a halo. He broke the kiss, silently thanking the TARDIS for allowing him to share her bounty, and rolled onto his back. 

"What was that?" Ianto asked. 

"What was what?" Jack replied. Sometimes it was fun to play dumb. He glanced over at Ianto. "Oh, you mean the fantastic sex? Just something I'd been saving for a special occasion." 

"Don't evade." Ianto grasped Jack's hand. "You make it your mission that all sex is fantastic, even if you have to put in more than your share of the effort. I was talking about the – " He reached out and traced a pattern against the empty space. "Your life." 

"I may have got a little carried away," Jack admitted. "Throes of passion. Not entirely responsible for my actions." He grinned at Ianto. "You have that effect on me, you know." 

"I may have noticed," Ianto grudgingly replied. "Jack, about earlier … " he trailed off, suddenly uncertain, and licked his lips. 

Jack decided another drink of water wouldn't go amiss. "Hold that thought." 

He got out of bed and went back to the kitchen for his water glass. He filled it, drank and filled it again, taking it back to Ianto. When he got back into bed, he dragged the sheet with him until they were covered, shutting out the rest of the world as they huddled underneath. "Here," he handed the glass to Ianto. "Have a drink." 

Ianto raised an eyebrow, asking non-verbally just what Jack was up to, but he didn't protest. He just drank his water obediently and handed the glass back. Jack popped out of their makeshift fort long enough to put the glass on the side table and then he scooted around so that he could take Ianto into his arms. 

"I know it's a hard thing to own up to, but what happened tonight, it was scary for both of us. First that machine got hold of you and then the Rift opened up right on top of us." Jack shivered as he remembered the nearly paralysing sense of panic he'd experienced. "I could have lost you tonight. That machine could have done something terrible. Or one or both of us could have been taken and ended up God knows where. That's the sort of thing I have nightmares about, Ianto, and tonight it almost happened." 

Ianto dropped his gaze to his hands. "I know. I think about it every time we take some poor soul out to Flat Holm. I think about their stolen lives and their grieving families and I say a prayer of thanksgiving that it's not me you're about to lock up. What we do for them, as much as it is, sometimes it doesn't feel like it's enough." 

"I know." Jack tightened his embrace as he kissed the side of Ianto's neck. "But that's not the conversation I wanted to have just now. What I wanted to say was I'm sorry I got it wrong earlier. Being your boss and being your boyfriend … it's a tough balancing act. I send you into the line of fire because that's my job and then I … " Jack shrugged. He took Ianto's hands in his and cupped them, tracing the lines and calluses with his thumb. 

"No, I'm the one who should apologise." Ianto shifted, looking up into Jack's eyes. "Out there in the field, I didn't have time to be frightened. But later, back at the Hub after Owen had done his second exam, it hit me all at once. Everyone was being so … kind. They never used to be. And in a way that made it easier. I think Owen's death changed that. And I felt so … vulnerable. When you reached out to me … I guess you're not the only one who has trouble with that balancing act. I lashed out when I shouldn't have. And then I got angry with myself for lashing out." 

"So you lashed out more?" Jack chuckled. "Your logic escapes me." 

Ianto frowned at Jack's mirth and then he offered a ghost of a smile. "It's possible that my logic doesn't exactly stand up to close inspection. Are you sure I didn't hurt you?" 

Jack guided Ianto's mouth to his for a kiss. "Let me show you, Ianto Jones, just how resilient I can be." 

The kiss was interrupted by a loud grumbling from Ianto's stomach. 

Jack broke the kiss and looked askance in the direction of the distinctive noise. 

"It seems to me someone's going to need a little fortification before we engage in that demonstration." Ianto's stomach rumbled again. "When was the last time you ate?" 

Ianto shrugged. "Sandwich during the conference call with the PM's assistant." 

Jack nodded firmly and then disentangled. He popped a kiss against Ianto's temple. "Right. Be back in a flash. Don't move a muscle."

The takeaway they'd ordered but not eaten was stir fries and finger foods. Jack filled a plate with fried prawns, morsels of chicken in lemon sauce and slices of char siu, leaving the less easy to contend with pan fried noddles and Buddha's Delight for breakfast. He heated them in the microwave long enough to take the chill off, but not so long that he would risk burning either their tongue or fingertips, and carried the plate back into the bedroom. 

"Room service," Jack announced cheerfully as he popped back under the sheet. 

Ianto shook his head in mild consternation. "You're being ridiculous." 

Jack picked up a chunk of lemony chicken. "I'm having fun. Now open up." 

Obediently, Ianto opened his mouth. He stuck out his tongue. Whether he was editorialising or being helpful was difficult to say, but either way, Jack didn't mind. He placed the titbit very deliberately on the centre of Ianto's tongue, grinning happily as Ianto closed his mouth, trapping the finger for a moment before he allowed Jack to withdraw it. "Now you've got the spirit." 

"I've got a well-intentioned idiot for a boyfriend, you mean," Ianto grumbled facetiously. He picked up a piece of pork off the plate and held it up as a peace offering to further lessen the sting of his words. "Are we ever going to get this right, Jack?" 

"Does anybody?" Jack replied as he chewed. "Think about it, Ianto. Okay, I'll admit the boss – employee stuff is a minefield most couples don't have to navigate, but everybody has something. Don't they? And whatever that something is, they have a row about it, clear the air, and then they have make up sex. Just like we do." He gave Ianto a worried look. "You are up for make up sex, aren't you?" 

Ianto took a deliberate bite out of one of the fried prawns, closing his eyes in evident delight as he chewed. He popped the rest into his mouth and sighed contentedly before taking the half-finished plate out of Jack's hands, raising an eyebrow as if to say, 'What do you think?' and pulling Jack in for a long and greedy kiss.

End


End file.
